


cartography for beginners

by submersive



Series: hallelujah junction [2]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-03
Updated: 2020-08-03
Packaged: 2021-03-06 04:34:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,193
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25697371
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/submersive/pseuds/submersive
Summary: “When my grandfather died,” he started haltingly. “All I can think about was how I will never hear his voice again.”Or: The curry fic where Tobio finds his way back home.
Relationships: Kageyama Tobio/Oikawa Tooru
Series: hallelujah junction [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1859551
Comments: 34
Kudos: 380





	cartography for beginners

**Author's Note:**

  * For [BlueberryTobii (SEOKJEANIE)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SEOKJEANIE/gifts).



> This can _probably_ stand alone, but if you've read the main fic, it's set two years after that (filled with tonnes of psychiatric therapy)  
> Come listen to [this version of Cornfield Chase](https://open.spotify.com/track/4ArHek6pYwUuVGDUv0wCv0?si=9oso0WVKSkaeytmz_-o0Jw) by Hans Zimmer and Javi Lobe.

**I DO NOT CONSENT to have my work hosted or accessed by any third party app or site. If you are seeing this fanfiction anywhere but in [my account on archiveofourown](https://archiveofourown.org/users/submersive/pseuds/submersive) it has been reposted or accessed without my permission. Please let me know if you see it anywhere else. **

****

**Genuine source:<https://archiveofourown.org/works/25697371>**

* * *

“Tell me a secret,” Tooru whispers to his neck, his lips brushing against Tobio’s pulse point.

It’s dark in his room, the blackout curtains drawn to hide the foothills of the Andes just west of Tooru’s apartment in San Juan. It’s a view Tobio’s only seen from the plane, his flight landing at _Aeropuerto de San Juan_ just a few hours after sundown.

Tobio has an arm around his shoulder, the two of them barely moving after Tooru had buried himself in him to the hilt and came in him with a shout. They haven’t seen each other in months.

“Is that the gift you want?” Tobio asks quietly, absently trailing his fingers up and down Tooru’s spine.

“Hmm, yes,” Tooru replies. “I’m turning thirty in a few minutes, Tobio. You have to spoil me.”

“I love you,” he says. Declares, more like.

Tooru playfully pinches him on the side where his right arm draped over Tobio’s middle.

“That’s not a secret, Tobio-chan.”

“No, it isn’t.”

Tobio is quiet for a moment, trying to find something significant to share that isn’t _that_ because it still feels raw even now, when he is twenty seven and in bed with a man he fell in love with twice.

He tries to sort through the many things he’s hidden away for years, lighter ones and not as overwhelming. But it’s the best thing he can offer and it feels like the right time to share it.

“When my grandfather died,” he started haltingly. “All I can think about was how I will never hear his voice again.”

Tooru slides his hand up until his right palm is flat on Tobio’s chest, fingers splayed right over his heart.

The contact anchors him, makes it easier for Tobio to carve out a chunk of himself and offer it to Tooru on a platter with a label that says ‘ _Here is one more way to hurt me_ ’.

“He used to make us curry every Sunday after he played volleyball with me in the backyard. He’d take me to the market with him on Saturday mornings when my sister was training or hanging out with her friends.”

The market was loud and smelly, and Tobio used to hate going there. But the people his grandfather bought ingredients from knew him by name; his grandpa proudly introducing him as his grandson the first time he came along.

The sellers still smiled widely at him every time he’d find himself going back over and over even years after his grandfather passed away, wordlessly handing him the same things they used to buy only in lesser quantity.

“He tried to teach me how to make it several times. I didn’t listen as well as I could,” he says with a bitter laugh, remembering how his grandpa tried to recite the consecutive order of putting the ingredients in, and what the right amount should be.

“All I wanted to do was play volleyball. But he tried anyway.”

Tooru is a silent weight on top of him, shifting ever so closer until the soft tips of his unkempt hair are brushing against Tobio’s jaw, and Tobio can feel the steady rhythm of his heart thudding against his arm - so very warm and so very alive.

“The first few months after he died, I tried to make curry every Sunday. I can barely reach over the countertop so I had this little stool. I went to the same market and bought the same ingredients from the same people. I looked at the labels of the condiments in the cupboard, then bought the ones that were running out using the allowance my dad deposited in my account every month.”

Tobio swallows, his Adam’s apple bobbing and Tobio feels a light kiss press against his neck.

“I was alone. My sister went back to Tokyo after the funeral. My dad visits once in a while but that’s it.”

Tooru's pliant on top of him, the very picture of relaxed. If Tobio couldn’t feel the rapid fire beating of his heart, he wouldn’t even know that Tooru’s still actively listening.

“Every time I tried to make it, it didn’t taste right. So I set aside one day every month just to cook; to uh, to see how I can improve it. To make it exactly how grandpa used to.”

He’d tried to cook it in the middle of the night once when he couldn’t sleep, the weight of the deliberately abandoned set pressing down on him until all he could do was find peace in searching for a taste of home when everything had still been alright.

“The week after my grandpa died, I even dug through our garbage bins to look for the empty packets of sauces he’d used just two weeks prior,” Tobio laughs mirthlessly, the impending tremble immediately settled by Tooru’s hand traveling up from his chest to brush against the shoulder he isn’t laying on before making its way back to where the ache is starting to build right above his heart.

"I did that even if I knew I wouldn’t find anything, because I took the trash out myself the same night. I kept trying to cook it even after high school. Even when I was training for the national team. I’d get home, and I’ll make time to try. But the only thing I’d perfected was the soft boiled egg.”

He runs his fingers through Tooru’s hair, tugging at it softly and brushing his lips on the nearest part of Tooru he can reach, before leaning back against the pillow again.

“I did it eventually, eleven years later,” he whispers, closing his eyes to stop the impending tears from leaking out, pausing to take a breath to ensure that his voice doesn’t break. The memory of Tooru in his kitchen two years ago is stark in his mind.

“I was turning twenty six in Rome.”

Tooru stiffens on top of him, the nose tucked under his jaw slowly trailing away as the weight resting on his body shifts until the arm Tobio has around Tooru falls uselessly back on the bed.

He feels Tooru loom above him, using an arm to anchor his weight to keep himself from falling.

Tobio feels raw, like someone serrated a limb off of him and left the wound untreated and exposed. The secret so deeply rooted in him, he couldn’t remember who he was before it existed.

When Tobio finally gathers enough courage to open his eyes, Tooru is looking down on him, his eyes bright against the shadows bathing his face.

Tooru’s looking at him as if Tobio just offered him the world.

“Thanks,” Tobio whispers to the air between them, the words falling out of his mouth like a prayer. “Thanks for helping me find it again, Tooru.”

**Author's Note:**

> *Cartography is the science and art of drawing maps.


End file.
